Benevolence
by Pyroken Serafoculus
Summary: The ancient values of mercy and hospitality may be lost upon fresh violence, but some beings never forget.


Benevolence

_Run,_ my instincts told me.

I ran.

My entire purpose was to run. It had always been. My life was nothing but adrenaline-filled moments of panic, strung loosely together by… what? I could not even answer this anymore.

It had been five years of continuous flight. Five years. I knew nothing of the number of towns I had crossed, the moments of false safety between the terrified chases; I cared little about them. I only knew that I was running from frigid city to frigid city, reduced to pure, animal instinct, as I waded through terrible testaments of a wrath greater than Articuno's greatest blizzards. I had been raised in an orphanage on the very streets, exposed to urban corruption from the very start; I had learnt to despise it, surely, but I had also taught myself to fear it, to respect it as a formidable enemy. As I headed through yet another alley, I reminisced on my days in the nonexistent safety of the orphanage. It had been a result of the Urban Development Program that the egotistical misers running my prison had been forced to spend their fortunes on buying a pathetic collection of glued paper which seemed to serve as books. It was then that I had seen her.

She was a rather peculiar figure. Hovering above the illustrated forest ground, her portrait seemed to be dancing with playful joy. She sported a pair of fairy-like wings, and though they did not seem to move an inch, she had apparently mastered flight very well. A bright green constituted the main of her body, but her feelers completely dispelled their resemblance to an insect, tipped with neon blue, and the lower part of her body was shaded a very dark jade, like some sort of clothing. Her head was hefty in proportion to her body, and the very top split into a million locks, which tapered off to a point above and behind her. I was instantly charmed by this lighthearted creature, and further research did only to increase my appreciation.

This 'childhood hero', as she would transpire to be, was a sort of higher creature with the human name of Celebi. She was the Goddess of Life and fertility, and radiated the very miraculous joy which permeated her element. I had adored her for her elation when I had first read of her, but I began developing a very acute form of reverence as I heard more of her.

By the age of twelve, I had begun worshipping her.

She represented the very opposite of my dreary life in Pewter City: life, joy, uniqueness, a respite from the continuous winter which had besieged the northern half of Kanto. I had learnt never to hope for a miracle, but I had always held a fantastic dream of saving enough money to go on the Magnet Train and settling within the outskirts of Ilex Forest in Johto; in short, feeling warmth for once in my life, and beginning a search for the mystery of life in the only way I knew of. I had once read in a book two simple sentences: "The forest has a voice of its own. You need only to listen to understand it." The instant I was old enough to comprehend this, I had vowed to stand within a forest for all eternity, if need be, and _listen_, with all my might, until I understood.

A gunshot.

I had been reminiscing for too long; I had lost concentration. Ducking behind a putrid trash can, I waited for my pursuers to lose interest, and fell back into the story of my life.

I had been around fifteen years old when it had happened. Early in the morning, I had awoken to the toxic stench of flame, and realized with a start that my orphanage was burning down. Narrowly escaping death, I had run out to the bitter winter air; it had come as a shock to know that I was on my own once more.

I had scraped a living as the apprentice of an Apricorn-maker; the neighbourhood around me was a rather meagre one, but the locals were very friendly, and soon word had broken out of my ambition. Little happened in the house of an Apricorn craftsman; an unusual boy with unusual dreams was something to be talked of. I had heard no objection to my dreams; in fact, many had even planned to aid me in whichever way they could, but a few had always warned me, when I mentioned the subject, not to spread the word, and to be careful, for there existed some who disagreed so greatly with my ideals that they would kill to defend their own. Alas, I took no heed of these moments of prudence.

Even in this refuge, my peace was not to be. A certain organization took camp in the colony – religious extremists, they were exactly what my well-wishers had feared. I was betrayed by one of my trusted friends, torn away from my temporary abode, convicted to a life of hell. What did they want from me? After two decades of raw corruption, I still have no answer.

The society took me to a faraway camp, convinced that I would have to "purge my soul", "be brought to the way of Mew". I knew their only reason was to satisfy their own sadistic desires. Frankly, I thought it an insult to the name of Mew, despite my usual disdain for her. They had taken inspiration from the works of a madman in some war-torn world far from our own. Through some devilish procedure, I, along with an amalgam of other unfortunates like me, was tortured in every way possible, using methods far viler than the natural system of self-defense. It was not only a torment to my body; it was an eternal scarring of my very soul, a regimen leaving dreadful wounds which would never heal. But still I hung on, true to my devotion to the divine.

Having endured fifteen years of inhuman desecration, I took the opportunity one evening, escaped the run-down fences, and ran for my life. I had no idea what came over me in that instinctive moment; perhaps it was the unbendable will to live, still ringing out deep inside me. In any case, the subsequent years were nothing but a blur, until this rapidly disappearing moment. Perhaps I –

Suddenly, deep-throated barks rang out from other the side of the street, and I quickly rose from my place, belting to the nearest opening. I took no notice of my frostbite, my horrible condition in the bitter cold. Shielding myself from the falling snow, I darted off to a side alley and out the other, meeting the glare of flashlights. Half-blinded, I forced myself into the open door of a dingy, abandoned storeroom.

Silence. Dreadful silence, climatic silence, threatening to break in a moment of pure terror. The Houndoom were close again, their masters close behind. I locked the door and leaned against it, panting, hypothermia laying in my very essence. Scuffling footsteps, a bark of a command, a hasty, fumbling hand, inches from opening the only barrier between me and cold, dark death –

I ran up the stairs, desperate. A corroded door greeted me; I pulled it open, tearing it off its hinges. I ran up more flights of stairs; finally, bitter winter air coming back to me in a whoosh, I reached what seemed to be a high-rise roof.

I picked up every minute object I could find – a rusted steel plank, pieces of broken pottery – and piled it against the door, barricading myself, giving myself two more seconds of life. As the loud _thud_ of a headbutting Houndoom rebounded across the roof, I backed away, a six-story fall behind me, the demons of Hell itself before me, the cold hands of death settling within me. I waited with bated breath, awaiting my final doom –

With a fiery explosion, every fragment of my makeshift wall burst open, and so did the last of my hope; I turned, readying myself for death –

And a most extraordinary creature met my eyes.

As I gazed, breathless, time itself seemed to halt, and a connection formed between us. She possessed a pink, feline body, and on her face, a most playful smile danced. Yet I could sense, somehow, that this was not the true interpretation; as I looked closer, it was an instant understanding of mine that she held me with motherly affection, invisible, careworn creases on her timeless face. She hovered in midair, speaking in a way which no language could.

"_Mew,_" I whispered, awestruck. "B-But – how – I'm only a human, not even one of your children…"

She continued to gaze at me, and I understood instantly.

_I will take anyone under my wing, as long as they wish my comfort._

I looked out at my rampaging pursuers, but they held no interest… a searing bullet tore towards me, deflected instantly by an invincible cocoon of protection…

_You have seen enough suffering, young one. Ask me your deepest desires, and I shall grant them as your last wish._

Vertical pillars of flame flashed dangerously at me, stopping short of their target… through all the chaos, I told her.

Brilliant golden light surrounded me… my health reached critical state, but I cared little – I gasped, and the miracle of revelation flooded my wounded soul, healing it, rejuvenating it…

I lay within the protection of one of the greatest acts of Benevolence, and, through all the pain, all the anguish, all the fighting, I _understood._

As I drifted off to my final sleep, for the first time in my life, it was warm.

* * *

First, to prevent misunderstanding, I will clarify that death was not thw wish he made to Mew. He knew death already had him in its jaws, and he was beyond the physical healing of even a legendary. What he wanted as a dying wish, was what he had wanted from the Ilex Forest all his life: understanding. (As you can see, transcendence or enlightenment is a favourite theme of mine, and I spend several fictions in a row honing my depictions of it.)

I think I'll be presumptuous enough to say a few alternative meanings can be taken from this, and will allow the reader to interpret it in his/her own way. As a side-note, this was made around the Christmas of 2006, as my own contrubution to the general theme of charity.


End file.
